


counting heartbeats

by bibliomaniac



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Heavy Angst, M/M, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, but it will have a hopeful ending, i will tag individual chapters with warnings as well, so please if you think that might affect you negatively be careful about reading!, this is going to talk very frankly about OCD and depression including suicidal ideation, this is not going to be a happy ride my friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10528263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliomaniac/pseuds/bibliomaniac
Summary: Revali can't stop thinking about numbers, or germs, or about how he might be the Devil.He also can't stop thinking about Link, but that he doesn't mind as much.(or, the one in which Revali has OCD and Link has MDD and they learn to live past it)





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically just a retelling of my struggle with mental illness in college except with revalink
> 
> please, please take note of the chapter headings in this one! i'm going to try to tag everything accordingly, but do keep in mind that generally this story is going to make explicit mention of ocd (counting, contamination, and scrupulosity subtypes) and depression (including suicidal ideation). if that will set you off, please don't read this. i want you all to be safe!
> 
> cws for this chapter include: negativity, compulsive behaviors, depression mention, internalized ableism, food mention

Cereal has become awfully difficult.

Well, everything has, but cereal especially.

Like, Lucky Charms, for example. Does he count marshmallows as one group and the shapes as another, or are they all in the same category of ‘cereal’? Does he put three marshmallows and three shapes on his spoon, because threes are good, but that makes six all together, which is bad, so maybe two marshmallows and three shapes which makes five, but two is bad—

He sighs and carefully uses his spoon to cut one of the shapes in half. That solves the problem. Fractions are fine as long as they end in an odd number, and half is point five. It’s tedious, but he can eat now, which is good because he’s really hungry.

(Actually, hungry enough for two bowls of cereal, but he can’t do two bowls and he’s not hungry enough for three, and he can’t do two and a half bowls of cereal because then that’s wasting and wasting is bad which would make _him_ bad. So. No. One bowl of cereal it is. Maybe he’ll have one energy bar—but is that two breakfasts?

Right then. One bowl of cereal. Keep it simple.

Oh, how he longs for simple.)

He leaves the house more out of necessity than desire, because for one, his grandfather is helping him pay for college, which means that he can’t skip classes _too_ often because then he’s being bad, and for two, classes give him something to concentrate on other than the numbers, and for three—three points, good, threes are good—Link is in his art class, and seeing him makes his head go a little quieter.

Seeing is perhaps the operative word here. They’ve never spoken before. Link doesn’t talk. Selective mutism, apparently, and Revali doesn’t know sign language. He keeps meaning to get around to learning some, but when he’s not doing homework, he’s thinking about the numbers. Or about germs. Or about eternal damnation. One of the three or all of the above. (Three. Good.)

He gets to the classroom fifteen minutes early exactly—he waits outside the door until it’s fifteen (because fives and threes together make fifteen, one five, a very good number)—and then starts quietly setting up his materials at his usual seat. Other people start filing in, but they leave the seats next to him empty. That’s also normal, and he sort of prefers it that way, with nobody trying to talk to him.

But then Link rushes in two minutes late (Two! Bad! Bad! Calm down, it was him, not you, it’s fine, it’s fine—) and the only open seats are by Revali, and so there Link is, uncomfortably close on one of the equally uncomfortable stools.

Link waves at him, and Revali waves back, because the teacher is talking and it’s bad to talk while someone else is talking. He turns back to listen to her, but he’s very conscious of Link _right there_ , with his gold hair and blue eyes and Goddess, he’s cute.

Link pulls out a sketchpad, and in doing so brushes against Revali’s leg. Revali freezes. It was a clothes-on-clothes touch, which means he can probably get away with just wiping it off, but Link will notice and think he’s disgusted which means he has to make it casual—

The feeling builds up until Revali can’t take it anymore, and he scrubs at the spot where Link’s sweatshirt had touched his pants. Link is probably looking at him weird by now. Why wouldn’t he be? He is weird. He’s an aberration.

The sound of scratching pencil catches his attention. He looks over to the open sketchbook, where Link has written in spidery handwriting, “hello I’m Link! you’re Revali right?”

Revali frowns. The teacher is still talking, and this is sort of like talking, but he doesn’t want to be rude to Link either. After a split second of hesitation, he nods.

The pencil scratches again, but this time when he looks over it’s just a doodle of Link sleeping. Revali smiles at that.

“All right,” the teacher announces, having gone through all of the general PSA’s, “today we’re starting something kind of fun. You’re doing a portrait of your partner. But there’s a bit of a twist—it’s not a straight portrait but your interpretation based upon what they tell you their biggest problem is. Get creative. As long as you can defend your finished piece, it’s probably fine.”

Revali blanches. His biggest problem? How does he explain that? How does he explain that to _Link_ , who probably already thinks he’s weird enough?

Link, however, is already writing in the sketchbook. “uhh I guess the biggest problem I’m dealing w/ right now is depression”

Revali blinks, then finally speaks. “You are?”

Link shrugs. 

“And you…you’re okay with telling me about that?”

“should I not be?” Link’s eyebrow is raised, and he’s tapping his pencil against the page.

“No, you should be! If you want. I don’t mind, is what I mean, it’s fine. It’s good. Not good that you have depression, but…good,” Revali blusters, and Link purses his lips in an attempt to hide a smile.

“how about you? what are your problems?”

“I…” Revali hesitates. “You’re going to think I’m weird.”

Link raises his eyebrows again, both this time. “what is your biggest problem that you’re into vore”

Revali chokes, then hisses, “Goddess, no!”

“then what”

“I can’t…I can’t stop thinking about numbers,” Revali says in a rush. “I count everything, all the time. Everything has to be odd or I get all panicky and I can’t breathe. And, um, also there’s this thing with germs and sometimes I think I might be the root of all evil in the world?”

Link blinks at him, then nods slowly and scribbles “don’t take this the wrong way but do you like…see someone about that”

“No,” Revali mumbles. “I don’t want them to laugh at me.”

“it’s not something they’d laugh about it sounds like you have a serious problem that they could help with” 

“Maybe.” Revali turns back to his backpack to pull out a sketchbook of his own, trying to slow his beating heart. “Do you mind if I take a picture of you as reference?”

Link looks at him steadily, clearly noticing that he just changed the subject, but writes, “go ahead” 

(He doesn’t want it just for reference. It’ll help with that too, obviously, but part of him wants it so that he can look at it outside of class and not think about numbers for a moment.

If that makes him bad, he doesn’t know if he minds.)


	2. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: obsessions over numbers, anxiety attack, self-harming compulsive behaviors (scratching, self-starving), depression talk, school talk, food mention

The next day is a very bad day.

Revali wakes up late, which usually doesn’t happen because he sets exactly fifteen alarms all spaced on odd numbers, which means when he gets to the student parking lot, he has no option but to park in a spot that’s two spaces from the left. He spends a few minutes just staring at the spot just trying to convince himself to park in it, and then he does because he’s _so_ very late, and being late is _bad_. But as soon as he parks, there’s no air no matter how much he gasps for it, because not only is he late but he just did an even number and that means someone’s going to get hurt and it’s all his _fault_ —

He scratches his hands methodically, trying to draw blood. He knows it won’t happen—he cut his nails recently for this very reason—but he takes comfort in how his hands go red and puffy. A fitting punishment.

As soon as he can breathe again, he calls his grandpa to check to make sure he’s all right, which he is, which probably means somebody else he doesn’t even _know_ got hurt, and he’s not sure if that’s worse or not.

He doesn’t go to class. He watches the time tick by, expression dull, because he’d rather skip than be over half an hour late. He does go to the next one, but he can’t shake the thought that everyone is staring at him, that they all _know_ , that they know how bad he is, that they know he skipped and that he’s parked in an even number—

His notes are sparse and incoherent. He shouldn’t have bothered.

He finally gets home and punishes himself by not eating dinner. His stomach feels hollow, but it’s the least he can do to make up for everything today. And besides, all he has is rice, and counting the grains of rice is incredibly irritating.

He doesn’t look at the picture of Link. He doesn’t deserve it.

The next day, he wakes up on time, two hours and thirty minutes before class starts. He always gives himself an hour to get ready. (It takes him fifteen minutes.) He leaves for class an hour and thirty minutes before it starts. (The drive to campus is twenty; the walk up the stairs is ten, across campus fifteen.) The extra time comforts him, gives him a cushion against any events that could make him late.

It does mean, however, that he’s always left with thirty minutes before it’s fifteen minutes before class and he permits himself to go in, which is thirty minutes of a lot of nothing.

It is in this way that he accidentally overhears someone talking with his art teacher.

“He’s not feeling well today, but—”

“He’s been out sick four days already this semester,” the teacher interrupts. “This is a three-hour class, so I’m sure I don’t need to remind him that this class’s policy is that you need to withdraw after five days without a note, and we’re not even halfway through the semester.”

“I know, but—he has accommodations from the UAC, so we were sort of hoping—”

“I’m sorry, but this is a department policy. I can’t bend on this one.”

“I’ll let him know,” the person says wearily. “Thank you, though.”

“I really am sorry. If it were up to me, but…” Fabric rustles. A shrug, perhaps? “It isn’t.”

“I understand,” they say quietly, and then walk out of the room.

Revali looks up to find a blonde girl biting her lip and pulling out her phone. She looks down at Revali, who’s sitting right next to the door, and her eyes widen. “Oh.”

He blinks at her. They don’t know each other, he’s pretty sure.

“You’re in class with Link, right? He showed me the sketch he’s working on of you for that project.”

Oh. “Yeah. I’m Revali.” He makes no move to get up. He doesn’t want to be asked to shake her hand.

“Zelda. I’m his roommate.” She exhales. “You heard that?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“So you know he’s not here.”

Revali nods, confused.

“Would you actually maybe be willing to tell him what happened in this class today, then? I think it’d make him feel a bit better about missing.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Zelda smiles. “Thanks, that’s really nice of you. I’ll give you his number so you can text him.”

“His number,” Revali repeats, heart fluttering. “Yes.”

She recites, and he inputs the number into his phone, staring at it in wonder. _Just for class_ , he reminds himself. _Only for this_. But it’s still sort of exciting.

“All right, well, thanks again. Maybe we’ll meet again sometime.” She flashes another quick smile. “I have to get to another class now.”

“Okay, have…fun?”

“It’s a GE,” she throws over her shoulder, “So probably not, but thanks.”

The teacher apparently heard the exchange, because she peeks her head out. “Oh, Revali? You’re here so early.”

He shrugs. “I’m always here at this time.”

She frowns. “Really? You can come in, you know. I don’t have a class before this one.”

He chews on his lip, then checks the phone in his hand. It’s an even time. “Um…can you give me a minute?”

“Oh, sure—”

The time changes. “Never mind,” he says hurriedly. “I’m good.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder and hurries into the classroom while it’s still a good time.

The teacher stares at him, still frowning, and goes back to her place in the front of the classroom.

It’s even more awkward there. Revali pulls out his sketchbook and looks over the drawing he did of Link, but he doesn’t know how to portray the depression part of it.

Maybe Link would be willing to talk to him about it?

He turns on his phone and taps out a quick text. “Sorry you’re not feeling well. This is Revali, by the way, from class. Your roommate gave me your number so I could tell you what happened in class.” He looks over the text, then before he can convince himself to delete it, presses ‘send’.

The response comes about five minutes later. “thanks”

He stares at the word. He probably doesn’t want to talk if he’s only throwing out one-word responses, but Revali is pretty lost. “I’m really sorry to ask, but what is it like being depressed? I’m trying to brainstorm for the painting.”

This response takes even longer, and class is about to start when his phone finally buzzes.

“it’s like there’s something inside your chest eating everything, everything you care about, and all it leaves you with is your body and this ache and you’re too tired to cry and too tired to move and all you want is to be done with it, to be done with everything, for everything to stop for even a second, but everybody tells you you can’t so instead you have to stay and pretend like you’re real even though it feels like nothing is”

After a moment, Revali types awkwardly, “that sucks”

“pff”

And then, a few seconds later, “yep”

And then, “thanks for not saying you’re sorry”

“Wouldn’t do much good, would it?”

“no. no it wouldn't”

They don’t say anything after that, and Revali starts sketching on canvas, and Link’s face stares back at him from his phone, and Revali wonders how someone who looks so bright can have something like that living in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw this is probably going to be a shorter fic but...who knows really
> 
> it's hard to describe depression when it just feels mostly like a whole lot of Nothing but i tried idk


	3. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: anxiety attacks (in a public area), therapy mention

Link is back for the Friday class, looking tired and resigned. Revali observes him as he sits down and immediately lays his head down on the desk.

“Are you tired?” Revali asks, because class hasn’t started yet and he can.

Link looks over at him, head still on the desk, then raises a hand and tilts it back and forth.

“Sort of?”

Link nods.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Link blinks at him, then shakes his head.

“Okay.”

They both listen to the teacher starting the class, then take out their respective canvases. Revali is starting to paint today—he needs to, if he’s going to get done; he’s a very slow painter—but it looks like Link is still sketching. 

The teacher passes by to give comments on their work, and when she gets to Revali, she rests her hand on his back momentarily. It’s just a small touch before it’s gone, but one of her fingers catches the nape of his neck, and he freezes.

“What are you working on today, Revali?” she asks, but he can barely hear her.

This is the first time someone has touched him skin-to-skin in a year, and he can still feel the icy cold of the teacher’s finger on his neck. It lingers, burning into his skin, like it’s sinking under and running through his veins, burning everything, and—

“Get it off,” he whispers, voice high-pitched and utterly terrified.

“What?” She looks concerned, and Link is watching them now too.

“Get it off, get it off, get it off,” he continues to whisper, eyes wide and frightened. 

“Get what off, Revali?”

“You touched me,” he says as tears spring to his eyes. “Get it _off_ , you _touched_ me, get it _off_ —”

The teacher is looking between Revali and the rest of the classroom worriedly, and even knowing everyone’s eyes are on him now, he starts to hyperventilate in between gasping sobs. “Please, get it off, I can feel it, get it off get it off get it off—” He tries to scratch his back where she touched him, but the feeling remains.

All of a sudden, there’s a feeling of fabric-covered fingers shooing his hands away, and then a paper towel coated in something cool and wet is rubbing at his back. Revali looks over and sees Link, who is holding up a bottle of Purell reassuringly.

Revali relaxes slightly, but he still can’t breathe. His breaths come faster and faster, and his heart is pounding, and everyone is looking at him but he can’t _stop_ —

“Hey,” comes an unfamiliar voice. “It’s going to be all right. I need you to breathe with me, okay? Just listen for my breathing and try and match it.”

It’s Link again, but he’s _talking_. Revali shakes off the disbelief and tries to do as he’s told, because he _wants_ to be good, he really does—

“Good,” Link says soothingly. “Exactly like that. Just keep breathing. You’re doing a great job.”

He keeps breathing with Link, until his breaths are slow and even and his heart has slowed so much he wonders how he’s still alive. The post-anxiety-attack numbness is starting to set in, the feeling familiar. He can’t even bring himself to care that everyone is still staring, a few people whispering. There’s just a roaring nothing in his chest.

“Revali?” the teacher asks, sounding almost timid. “Are you okay now?”

He nods dully. He’ll be fine.

“Do you need to…talk to someone, or…”

He shakes his head. He has a hard time talking when he’s like this anyway. Idly, he wipes away the drying tears from his cheek and thinks, _I’m going to be so embarrassed later._

Link’s hands flicker in a pattern he doesn’t recognize to the teacher, and she exhales. “Okay. Thanks, Link. I didn’t really know what to do there.” 

His hands continue moving, and she says, “I’ll hold you both to that.” Then, apparently finally noticing the staring, she snaps, “Come on, guys, really? Get back to work.”

Revali stares down at the canvas. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to start today after all. The numbness makes it hard to think.

He hears the scratching of a pencil again, and then a sketchbook is being pushed into his view. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but you really need to talk to someone about this. I told the teacher you would”

Revali gazes at the words, then gives a small nod. It’s one thing if it’s at home. That he can deal with. But at school, in front of everyone…he probably should say something to someone or other. He still doesn’t really feel up to talking, so he writes back, “Okay. Thanks, by the way. For helping.”

Link shrugs. “np. Zelda has anxiety attacks every once in a while so instinct sorta kicked in I guess”

“She does?”

“yeah, she has GAD but she’s been in therapy for a few years now so the attacks are a lot less frequent”

“So it actually helps?”

“for some people, sure.”

Link apparently notices Revali deflating slightly, because he adds, “can’t know until you try, right? besides, you already promised. I’m gonna hold you to it”

“‘Okay’ is hardly binding.”

“I literally have it in writing, though. it’s basically a contract.” When he looks up, Link is smiling at him. “I’m not afraid to sue”

Revali huffs, rolling his eyes. He’s starting to feel a bit of himself come back. “You’d make an awful lawyer.”

“but an excellent friend,” Link writes, then adds in a small doodle of him winking and flashing finger guns in Revali’s direction. 

“Is that a proposal?”

Link blinks, then grins. “if you want it to be!”

Revali ducks his head to hide his own small smile. Something inside him screams _the more people you have close to you, the more you can hurt them,_ but he wants this so much. Can’t he have this one thing?

(When he looks at Link, somehow he thinks he can.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this happened to me in a restaurant when i was on vacation once. i felt so bad for the hapless old man who had just wanted to give me a nice pat on the back. 
> 
> it's also true that i didn't touch anyone skin-to-skin for a year (maybe longer?) while i was at my worst, so it is possible


	4. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: frank discussion of obsessions and compulsions (including counting, contamination, and scrupulosity subtypes), negativity, therapy mention, suicide planning/ideation mention, pills mention, religion mention

When Revali next looks down at the sketchbook Link’s pushed to him, he sees, “anyway, I gave you information on my deal on Wednesday, so it’s time to pay up on your end. you mentioned numbers, and being evil, and obviously touching is a thing. am I missing anything?”

Revali bites his lip. Link is pretty clearly trying to distract him, but it’s kind of a nice sentiment, so he’ll forgive it. He writes back, “No, those are the main things. They’re all sort of connected.”

“how so?”

“Well, see, I’ve been worried about being a good person ever since I was little. My parents are very religious, and morality is incredibly important to their faith, and it sort of rubbed off on me. Nobody ever told me I had to be perfect, but I sort of decided I did anyway.”

Link nods, looking interested. “okay, and?”

“I’ve also always had sort of a preference for odd numbers, but about a year ago it started getting really bad when I decided that even numbers were bad.”

“why?”

Revali flushes. “It’s silly, but you know how if you divide the number five into groups, there’d be a two on either side and a one in the middle?”

“uh huh”

“If you do that to a four, or any other even number, there’s nothing in the middle. Just…a void. It’s unnatural. It’s bad.”

Link, to his credit, doesn’t even raise an eyebrow. “okay”

“Anyway, it started out with water bottles. I always brought one water bottle, but I’d be done with it before the day was out, so I decided to bring two instead, but something about that felt wrong, so instead of that I brought three. From there it spread to the other foods I eat, and what time I leave for class, and how many times I knock on a door. I count everything I do to make sure it’s odd.”

Link tilts his head. “that seems like a lot of work”

“It is. It’s incredibly irritating, actually, and distracting, and time-consuming. I know it’s ridiculous somewhere in the back of my mind, but…then I ask myself, what if I don’t do it and something bad happens and it’s my fault?”

“what about the touching? where does that come in”

“That’s sort of two things. First, I’m worried about germs because if I get sick then I’ll have to drop out of college and then I’ll be homeless.”

Link doesn’t write anything to that.

“Second, I get worried that if someone touches me and they’re a bad person, that their badness will transfer to me along with the germs. Like if they’re a serial killer, then I’ll become one too, or if they’re…I don’t know, rude to retail employees.”

Link snorts, eyes twinkling. 

“I also worry that the badness is just innate in me somehow. I don’t think I’m a very good person. I’m kind of rude sometimes, and thoughtless, and probably egotistical.”

Link does raise his eyebrows at that.

“People try and tell me I’m good, but they don’t know me as well as I do. I’m so bad. Sometimes I think I’m such a bad person that I’m actually a demon, or a harbinger of the apocalypse.”

“so if you’re already a bad person, why do you need to keep from being bad?”

Revali blinks at Link. He can probably talk by this point, but he sort of likes writing like this. “Because I have to. Being bad is…bad.”

“I mean, sure, but if you’re already the worst person in the world, you can’t really get even worse just by touching someone or using an even number, right? like, you’re already there”

Revali frowns. “I mean…I guess.”

“just something to think about. Zelda’s therapist always told her that when you think an intrusive thought through to its logical extreme, things sort of start falling apart.”

Revali doesn’t know what to say to that. He just presses his lips together and does what he’s best at—he changes the subject. “So, are you feeling better today?”

“what”

“You were sick,” Revali clarifies. “Last class.”

“oh. yeah, not exactly”

Revali tilts his head. “Then what happened?”

“I had an Official Bad Day”

“???”

“it means I got a little too close”

“To what?”

Link sighs, looking away, then reluctantly writes, “Zelda caught me looking up whether any of my pills could kill me” 

Revali’s heart sinks. Here he is burdening Link with his problems, when Link...he could have…

“I guess the original question still stands, then. Are you doing better?”

He shrugs, playing with a strand of his hair. “she confiscated everything, so sure”

“That’s not really what I was asking.”

Link exhales slowly. “I mean, I still would like to die, but I’m not actively planning to kill myself. is that what you were asking?”

Revali stares down at the page, then nods. “Well…I missed you.” Then, in smaller writing, he adds, “I would miss you.”

Link reads the message, then looks at him steadily, something odd in his eyes. Finally he writes, “thanks, I guess”

Reluctantly, he looks at the clock and mumbles, “We should probably start working if we’re going to get finished with these things.”

Link nods, and they both go back to their work, but every once in a while they’ll look over at each other before averting their eyes once more.

  


* * *

  
When Revali gets home that day, he looks up psychiatrists in the area and calls a few before he finds one that can get him in the next week. Satisfied with his work for the day, he relaxes in his bed. It’s a Friday, so he doesn’t have any homework, and it’s not like he has much else on his plate. 

He falls asleep for a while, and when he wakes up, it’s to his phone buzzing, which is odd because nobody ever texts him.

“hey uh”

“awkward question but can you send me a picture of yourself”

It’s Link. He tilts his head, confused, then reads the rest of the texts.

“Revali?”

“never mind, shouldn’t have asked. it’s just i’m working on the painting and i feel like i got your nose wrong and. yeah nvm”

Revali smiles at his phone, then responds, “Sorry about that, I was sleeping.”

“oh crap sorry! go back to sleep!”

“No, it’s fine.” He chews on his lip, then takes a picture of himself giving a little wave, with a hesitant smile, and sends it. “Does that work?”

The response takes a little while. “you’re adorable, but your hand is casting a shadow on your face lol”

His heart thuds. Adorable? Him? He takes another picture, this time with his hand out of the way.

“omg are you blushing”

Oh, Goddess. “I just woke up! My cheeks always get red after I wake up”

“then why weren’t they red in the first picture”

“Delayed reaction?”

“riiight. you know it’d be fine if you were blushing. it’d be cute”

Cute, now, too?! He knows it doesn’t mean anything, not like _that_ , but his treacherous heart sings anyway.

“I’m not cute,” he finally responds. “If anyone is cute here it’s you.”

Hopefully that’s not going too far. Link wouldn’t have said it if it were a bad thing to say, right? And anyway, it’s true.

There’s another pause, and then his phone buzzes again.

It’s Link, hiding his head in his hands, but what’s visible of his cheeks is red. “ok i guess turnabout is fair play” reads the caption, and Revali beams.

 _Perhaps,_ a small voice in the back of his head suggests, _if you’re able to make someone as cute as that blush, you’re not so bad after all._

He doesn’t know about that, but he does save the picture. He needs the reference for Link’s hands, after all, and anyway, it makes him feel a bit lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically who revali actually is in canon is who this revali thinks he is, except worse lol
> 
> sorry for the ocd-heavy talk in this one, i felt like it was important to explain how these obsessions work for revali (aka how they worked for me). the thing about the water bottles is true, incidentally. for months i had three water bottles on me at all times


	5. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: negativity, low self-esteem, depression symptoms mention, indirectly mentioned suicidal ideation, family issues mention

Link has a problem.

Okay, well, he has an abundance of problems—his depression, his grades, school in general, the dishes that are starting to pile up in the sink. But right now the problem on his mind is that he’s had a crush on Revali ever since their first in-class art critique, and Revali isn’t making it _better_ by being adorable and attractive and compassionate. The opposite, really.

He remembers distantly that first art critique, the first time they had ever actually interacted. He’d caught Revali staring vaguely in his direction a few times, looking spaced out, but that’s not really an interaction. He had been curious, though, about the boy who never had anyone around him, who was always quiet, who always looked lost in thought.

They had been given an assignment to use the colors of a selected picture in their own new piece. Link had done something abstract about one of his recurring nightmares, the one where he’s in a dark room with a pair of narrow, shining white stairs, and he’s climbing and climbing until he falls forever into nothingness.

There had been a lot of blank stares when he had put it up at the front of the room for critique, a few scattered whispers.

“The colors are cool,” someone had offered, finally. 

“I don’t really get it,” another had said honestly. “It seems like a lot of paint slapped on a canvas.” Their friend had punched them in the shoulder, and they had said, “What? It’s just what I think.”

Link had compressed the empty feeling in his chest, the nothing that threatened to overtake him, into a small ball at the base of his stomach. 

“Anybody else?” the teacher had asked. “Revali, you haven’t said anything yet.”

“It feels lonely,” Revali had said after a short, uncomfortable silence, voice soft. “It feels like someone is all alone in a dark place. And maybe there’s still hope there, because of the brighter colors up top, but it’s too high and too hard to reach. I like it a lot. And anyway, I don’t think you have to get art to appreciate it. It means something to the artist, and that’s more important.”

Link had stared at him, at the way he had flushed slightly and ducked his face into his scarf, almost like he was hiding, and thought, _this is someone who could understand me_.

Ever since then, he had taken more and more interest in him, though he could never quite bring himself to sit down next to him and talk to him until earlier this week. He’s glad he did, though, because Revali is so much better than he could ever have expected. Revali’s got his problems as well, of course, but it doesn’t make him any less kind or beautiful or basically perfect.

Link groans into his pillow and resists the urge to look at the pictures of him again. He should probably be working on classwork, or doing literally anything other than what he’s doing right now, which is agonizing over their last text exchange and what Revali meant when he said Link was cute. Like, cute like a puppy? Cute like hot? Cute like I want to date you?

He quashes the feeling of hope rising in him by reminding himself that _nobody_ wants to date him, and rightly so. He’s a mess in every sense of the word. He can’t bring himself to wear nice clothes to art class, or at all really, so Revali has only ever seen him in old, paint-spattered shirts and sweats. He finds it hard to work up the energy to shower, so his hair isn’t always the best either, and his acne has been acting up recently. And that’s not even counting his emotional problems. Revali doesn’t even know how deep his depression goes, how much it dictates his life, how hard he has to act to even pretend to be functional. And he’s got a whole host of other issues—with his workaholic father, with his dead mom, with trusting people either too much or too little. No, he’s not the sort of person anyone would want to date.

The problem with this particular thought exercise is that, while he’s not hoping for something hopeless anymore, he also feels like trash, and now he doesn’t want to do _anything_. He stares at the walls.

Zelda finds him like that, curled up in bed and eyes still on the walls, and she sighs. She knows him well enough to know when he’s having a bad day. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do I have to be here?” Link asks dully. He’s never had any trouble talking around Zelda. She’s like the family he doesn’t have. “Why do I have to keep living when there’s nothing here for me?”

“There’s so much here for you, Link. I know that’s incredibly hard to see right now, but someday you will.”

“I don’t want to wait for someday.” He exhales as she sits down on his bed and starts stroking his hair idly. 

“But you have to. The world isn’t ready to lose you yet.”

“I don’t want to live for the world. I want to live for me. Why can’t I do that?” His voice is desperate now. “Everybody else can.”

“Not everybody. But you’ll get there.” She continues to run her fingers through his hair. “Please just stay for now. Please.”

He doesn’t respond, just lies down on her lap and lets her fingers soothe the burning out of him until there’s just numbness again.

When he talks to Revali next, it’s on Monday. He had sort of wanted to text him before that, but he couldn’t exactly think of a good excuse. When Revali sees him, he turns a delicate pink and then waves.

“how are you doing?” he writes in the sketchbook, then passes it over for Revali to look at.

“Okay. Better now that I’m here,” he says softly, and turns even more red. 

“it’s a p fun class”

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“??”

Revali hides his face in his hands, then mumbles through his fingers, “My head is…quieter around you. It’s nice.”

Link smiles slowly. Then, before he can change his mind, he writes quickly, “guess that means you’ll just need to spend more time around me”

Revali blinks, then a smile grows on his own face and he ducks his head. “Guess so,” he says, and Link’s heart soars a little. He had told himself it was wrong to hope, but it’s hard not to around Revali.

And maybe, he thinks to himself, that’s not such a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been in sort of a down mood lately so i wanted to do link pov to sort of talk about that
> 
> the painting mentioned is one i did in college. i did a lot of abstract stuff back then and it didn't always go over too well lol


	6. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: therapy (including exposure therapy), medication, mention of a contamination obsession

The day after, a Tuesday, Revali has his first therapy appointment. He opens the door to the small suite with a much less small degree of trepidation and walks into what appears to be a waiting area. He sits down on a chair and looks around, hoping taking in the details will calm him down a bit. It’s all pretty bland—a potted plant, probably fake; some magazines and a few Calvin and Hobbes anthologies. On the wall are three light switches, each labeled with a name. Revali notices the name of the person he’s meeting and tilts his head curiously. Odd. 

Soon enough, a petite woman with short brown hair and a calm demeanor appears from a door at the back of the room. “Revali, I’m guessing?” She sticks out her hand, and Revali takes it on autopilot before blanching. He doesn’t want to make a bad impression, so he doesn’t wipe it off, but he can feel it at the back of his mind.

“You’re new to therapy, so I’ll explain a few things about myself and what we’ll be doing if you choose to continue. My name is Dr. Greene. I’m a cognitive behavioral therapist…” She continues on, but Revali honestly doesn’t catch a word of it. He’s too busy thinking about his hands. 

“Any questions?” she asks after a few minutes of talking.

“Have you washed your hands recently?” he bursts out, then colors. “I’m so sorry. That’s really rude of me. I’m sorry.”

She gazes at him calmly, then says, “Usually I wouldn’t answer that question, but since it’s the first day, I’ll tell you that I washed my hands right before meeting you.”

It’s a relief, but he surreptitiously wipes his hands on his jeans anyway—though not surreptitiously enough, clearly, because Dr. Greene’s eyes go to his hands speculatively before going back up to his face. 

“All right. Would you like to tell me what’s been bothering you?”

He rattles off his symptoms, clenching his fists in preparation for Dr. Greene’s laughter, but she doesn’t laugh. She just nods, making an occasional note on a legal pad and asking clarifying questions here and there.

Eventually she leans back in her chair, still exuding calm, and asks, “Revali, are you familiar at all with OCD?”

He bites his lip guiltily. “I looked it up when I first started having problems.”

“Okay, good. Then I’m sure you know that the symptoms you’re having match up with that. Now, luckily, cognitive behavioral therapy has a history of working well for individuals with OCD, though I’d also recommend you consider seeing a psychiatrist and talking about medication options. Back to therapy, though—what can be helpful is carefully controlled exposure therapy combined with some other techniques. Do you know anything about that?”

“No?”

“Basically what it means is we very carefully expose you to something you’re afraid of.” She stands gracefully and walks over to a whiteboard he hadn’t noticed was there. “See, this is how the cycle of OCD works. You get a thought, and while in a lot of people that thought might go away quickly, it sticks in your mind. That’s the obsession part of OCD. Anyway, that thought makes you anxious, so you do something that alleviates your anxiety—like your hand-wiping, for example. That’s the compulsion.”

Revali fidgets uncomfortably, but nods.

“The problem is, when you do that and your anxiety goes away, it reinforces the idea that the initial thought was something to be afraid of in the first place. So what exposure therapy does is makes you do something you’re afraid of, in a safe environment with someone to talk you through things.” 

Revali barely even notices he’s shaking his head repeatedly until Dr. Greene says, “I know it sounds frightening. But the thing is, your body can only physically be anxious for so long before it wears itself out. That thing you’re scared of? It won’t last. And every time you do something that scares you and the scary thing doesn’t happen, which it won’t, it will reinforce the idea that there was nothing to be scared of in the first place.”

“What, that everything is all in my head?” Revali snaps bitterly. “I already know that.”

Dr. Greene pauses. “Well, everything is all in your head, yes. But that doesn’t make it any less real. Your sight, your sense of touch, feelings of pain—they’re all processed in your brain. Everything we experience is in our heads, but it’s still real and it’s still frightening and that’s not something to shake your head at. It just makes it all the more important that we work to get rid of the things that are in your head that are harmful to you.”

Revali taps a finger on his jeans, then mumbles, “I guess that makes sense.”

“Right. Anyway, I’m not going to force you to do anything, but I really do think it can be helpful if we do this together.”

It feels like an eternity to Revali before he hears himself saying, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

Dr. Greene’s smile is peaceful. “Good. Thank you for trusting me.”

“I just want to get better,” he says, turning his head away. “I want to be normal. So if this is what I have to do to get there, then I’ll do it.”

“I don’t really believe in the concept of normalcy, but I do believe in getting you to a place where you’re comfortable with yourself.”

Revali snorts. He knows that normal exists, and he’s not it. “Sure. Anyway, what do I have to do?”

“We’re almost out of time, actually, so I’m going to give you an assignment. I want you to write up a list of goals—things you want to get out of this while we’re working together. Is that okay?” 

Revali blinks. “That’s it? Sure, I guess.”

“Good, thank you. We’ll look over the list next time and talk about it.”

“Okay.”

“All right. Anything else you want to ask before you go?” 

Revali hesitates, mind flashing to his grandpa and then, unexpectedly, Link. “The people I care about. Will…will they be safe? Can you promise me?”

Dr. Greene looks at him steadily, head slightly tilted, as if she’s contemplating whether to answer the question or not. Finally, though, she says, “I promise.”

“All right.” He stands up, looking worriedly at her hands, but she doesn’t extend them again. “See you next week, then.”

“See you.”

He sends his grandpa a text letting him know that the appointment went fine—he’s been asking—and then, on autopilot, opens up the text conversation with Link. He stares at it for a moment, but Link is the one who wanted him to come here, right? 

“I had my first therapy appointment today,” he finally types out.

Link responds quickly. “how was it?”

“Fine, I guess? She was very calm, which I guess is good because I wasn’t.” 

“therapy can be sort of nerve-wracking so i totally get you there. but i think it’ll help”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

When his phone buzzes next, it’s a picture of Link with his fingers crossed and a shy grin on his face. “well i’ll be wishing you luck the whole way!”

Revali saves the picture, as always, a smile of his own growing. “Well, maybe that’s all I need,” he types, and means it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one was pretty therapy-heavy;; it'll get back to relationship stuff next chapter
> 
> dr. greene is based off of my first therapist, and yes, my first words to her ever were 'have you washed your hands recently' except my mom was there and lightly slapped me on the shoulder for being rude


	7. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: therapy, anxiety attacks

The next week is fine—they just go over the list, talk more about what exposure therapy will entail. It’s all theory. The week after that, however, is a bit bad.

Dr. Greene is sitting in her chair, looking down at what appears to be his list and a legal pad full of notes. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to work on first?”

“Not really?”

“How about touch, then? You’ve written that you want to be able to touch people.”

He immediately blanches. “No.” 

She pauses, then looks at him. “I’ll respect your wishes if that’s what you really want.”

He frowns. “What, you don’t think it’s what I want?”

“Why would it be on your list otherwise?”

“I meant later! A time that is not now. Somewhere in the very distant future.”

“Okay.”

Something about the way she’s responding stresses him out. “Is it really okay or are you just saying that?”

“It’s really okay. But if it’s something you want, you will have to do it someday, you realize.”

Revali purses his lips. “Yes.”

“And that day will never be as far in the future as you seem to think.”

Revali narrows his eyes. “So you do want me to do it.”

She stares back at him impassively. “I want you to believe that you’re capable of doing it, is all.”

He scrunches up his face, giving a put-upon sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it, but only because you clearly want me to.”

She puts her hand in front of her face as if to cover a yawn, but he’s pretty sure she’s smiling. “All right. We can start with one clothed finger, okay?”

 It takes him five minutes to work up the courage to poke her patiently proffered index finger, and even then he has an anxiety attack, which she walks him through with the aplomb of someone who has seen this a million times. “Okay, what’s the worst thing that can happen from me touching you?” she asks, and, “How likely is that to happen?” 

By the end of the session, he’s exhausted, terrified, and low-key contemplating stopping therapy, but he can press his entire hand against Dr. Greene’s clothed palm without hyperventilating. As he walks out, she reminds him, “No wiping off skin-to-clothes contact now, okay? I’d like you to find at least one person to practice with for your homework.”

“I don’t have any friends,” he says, not even able to muster grumpiness.

“There’s nobody who’d be willing to help you out?”

He bites his lip, then looks away. Link… “Maybe,” he mumbles, then walks out the door. 

When he gets to his car and opens the door, he collapses onto the seat, resting his head on the steering wheel. “You can do this,” he whispers to himself. “You’re going to get better. You can do this.”

 _Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?_ whispers his head.

He isn’t sure about anything right now.

He finally looks back up, then starts the car and makes his way to a familiar location: the art supplies store in the neighboring town. He doesn’t usually buy anything, but he finds it comforting.

He’s listlessly browsing through mediums when he hears a surprised noise next to him.

He looks over and finds Link, who looks caught off-guard but a little bit pleased. Link waves, and Revali manages a small wave, at which Link frowns and pulls out his phone.

“What’s wrong?” he writes on the note-taking app on his phone, then shows it.

“Therapy,” Revali says dully. “It was a lot.”

Link makes a sympathetic face. “i’m sorry,” he types out. “what did you do?”

“Skin-to-clothes touching.” Revali hangs his head. “It’s incredibly pathetic that I’m like this just from something so simple.”

Link shakes his head fervidly enough that Revali looks back up. “no!!!” he types. “if it’s something that’s hard for you, that’s valid, okay? you’re not pathetic at all.”

Revali smiles bitterly. “Thanks.”

Link stares at him for a moment, frowning. Revali doesn’t really like seeing him like that, so he adds, “I have to practice too, but I can’t really walk up to a random stranger and ask them if I can gently rest my hand on their shoulder. I’d get referred to campus police, probably. The Hyrule Caresser.”

Link grins, shaking his head again. “yeah maybe don’t do that.” He types something else after that, but it takes a while before he shows it to Revali. “i’d be willing to help you out though?”

Revali gazes at Link, a more genuine smile growing. “Really? You would?” Then he catches himself. “I mean, you don’t have to! I don’t want to force you to do anything. Like, if you just feel obligated, then I’ll find someone else. Or, um, maybe not, but I can work it out—”

Link practically shoves his phone in Revali’s face to stop his rant. “no you’re not forcing me it’s fine! i could use a gentle caress or two lol”

Revali stares at that message, flushing. Link also turns a light shade of pink, then types “uhh forget i said anything re: gentle caresses,, but srsly no obligation i just want to help you” 

“Thanks,” Revali murmurs, cheeks still red. “I appreciate that.”

“you could come over to my apartment maybe?” Link types slowly, looking incredibly nervous. “we could go over the assignment too or smth, it’s due soon and i’d love a new pair of eyes”

“Oh, I couldn’t—” Revali starts, but seeing Link start to deflate, he quickly adds, “—come over tonight, but, um. Tomorrow maybe?”

Link smiles, a small, hopeful thing. “yeah?” 

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“seven?”

“Seven…oh one,” Revali amends lightly. “But yeah. Text me the address and I’ll be there.” 

Link grins, and almost without thinking, Revali gives Link a small pat on the shoulder. Revali starts to apologize, but Link is beaming now, and—well, Revali is still exhausted, but he’s not as scared anymore, because Link is here and solid and safe. 

“i’ll see you tomorrow then,” Link types, more cheerful than when Revali saw him at first, and Revali nods in a daze that lasts until Link has left the aisle.

Maybe this week won’t be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's fifteen instead of thirteen because thirteen is unlucky (revali is quite superstitious here because i was lol)
> 
> exposure therapy is truly exhausting, and i would go to the bookstore afterwards to calm down


	8. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: anxiety attacks, depression, low self-esteem, bad intrusive thoughts, cancer mention, insect mention, hospital mention, death mention

Revali shows up the next day at 6:45 (a perfectly serviceable number, four plus five equals nine and also leaves fifteen minutes, good), incredibly nervous and clutching his oversized portfolio like a lifeline. He’s resolved himself to a long and probably creepy-looking wait outside the door when Zelda opens the door, smiling.

“Hey. Link’s still in his room, but you can come in.”

Revali checks the time and makes a face. “Oh, um…” 6:46. Bad. Bad bad bad. (one, then a three, good—but that makes four times—bad, there we go—one three one, good combination—)

“You can take as long as you need,” Zelda says calmly. “No rush, okay?”

“I’ll only be…like…twenty-seven seconds,” Revali says, embarrassed. 

“Like I said, no rush.”

Revali waits awkwardly until the phone indicates it’s turned 6:47 (four plus seven, eleven, one one, good, except for one plus one is two, don’t think about it don’t think about it—) then crosses the threshold. Zelda observes him curiously, but he can tell it’s not malicious or anything. 

“Are you doing okay there?” she eventually asks as Revali clenches his fists repeatedly around the handle of his portfolio. 

“Double digits are hard,” he says reflexively, then closes his eyes slowly, cursing himself. Way to make a good impression. “That…probably didn’t make sense. Um, it’s just—”

“No, it’s fine. Link gave me the basic rundown. I won’t ask for further explanation. It’s probably best if you don’t dwell too much on that right now, yeah?” 

“Probably,” Revali acknowledges after a moment. “Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. I know how it is.” 

They both fall silent after that, Revali sliding his hands against one another and Zelda casting increasingly worried looks at a door that Revali presumes leads to Link’s room.

It’s been eighteen minutes (bad), by which point Revali is close to an anxiety attack, because he should never be left alone to think and he’s just realized he has two eyes and two ears and that there are an awful lot of twos in his body—two lungs, Goddess, he _breathes_ with those—and maybe it’s balanced out by one nose (two nostrils, oh no) or one mouth (two lips does that count? crap crap crap crap crap—) and, like, one pancreas, but what if it _isn’t_ and—

“I’m going to go check on Link,” Zelda says, anxiety as evident in her voice as it is in Revali’s demeanor, and Revali nods tightly (is he going to need to count all of his body parts now? This isn’t fair, this isn’t _fair_ ). Zelda stands up, walks over, and knocks lightly on the door, and her face twists for a moment before an equally light knock sounds from inside the room.

She disappears inside the room, and Revali can’t hear Link—either he’s not talking or he’s talking very quietly—but he can hear Zelda.

“What’s wrong? …Oh, Link, no, that’s not true. …Please. You’re amazing. …Fine, you don’t have to believe me, but can you at least respect my opinion? …Link, come on, he wouldn’t be here if that were the case.”

A jolt of something dark runs through Revali as he realizes that he’s responsible for this, at least in part. He ducks his head and begins to dig his nails into his palms. You’re fine you’re fine you’re fine he doesn’t hate you you’re fine why would he have invited you if—

_He’s a nice person, and you’re ruining him already, look at how he’s gotten just by spending the smallest amount of time with you, you caused this, you probably caused all of his problems too—_

His thoughts are interrupted by Link walking slowly out of his room and sitting down on the couch next to Revali. He smiles, but it’s strained. Revali frowns in response, and again, as though it’s some long-forgotten instinct buried within him, he lightly pats Link on the shoulder.

Link stares at him, surprised, and Revali realizes what he’s just done. “Practice,” he squeaks out, the embarrassment plus the imagined feeling of germs on his hand beginning to get to him.

Link nods, and Revali doesn’t think he’s imagining him deflating slightly. Revali chews on his lip, then makes a decision.

“Also you looked sad,” he says in a rush. “I don’t…you shouldn’t be sad.” Revali thinks, not for the first time, that if he could take all of Link’s sadness upon him, he would.

 _As if the person who caused it could,_ the voice whispers, and he looks down. 

“Easier said than done,” Link murmurs, something small and not meant to be heard, but his face isn’t quite as pinched-looking anymore. 

Revali’s face must show his surprise at hearing Link’s voice, because Link purses his lips and averts his eyes, then gets out his phone.

Revali gets a text a few seconds later. “so how are you doing then? i would’ve thought you’d be reacting worse to touching me” 

“Oh.” Revali’s brows knit. He had gotten sort of distracted, but now that he thinks of it, there’s still that feeling of breathlessness in the back of his chest, the itch to wipe off the Germs and the Bad and the—he clenches his teeth, then begins reciting, voice high-pitched and airy.

“Okay so. The worst thing that could happen is I get cancer and have to drop out of college and then my grandpa dies from overwork trying to support my cancer bills and hates me before he dies and then I die after they kick me out from the hospital and I’m alone and cold and there are probably cockroaches all over me."

Link blinks, then nods again.

“And.” Revali takes a deep breath. “The likelihood of that happening is, um, low, because…because cancer isn’t transmitted by germs, and you don’t have cancer anyway.”

Link gives an encouraging thumbs up.

It takes a while before Revali is able to calm down, but it’s easier than it was yesterday. Revali ducks his head and smiles to himself, pleased. 

When he looks up, Link is staring at him with a soft smile of his own on his face—not the strained one from earlier, but one that’s small and genuine and bright.

 _What do you do when he’s so twisted by you that he can’t smile anymore?_ the voice that speaks for all his worst fears asks, and Revali has no idea, but he doesn’t know if he can bring himself to stay away, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent a lot of time thinking about how i had two eyes when i was at my worst point. that catastrophizing at the end is also basically what my worst fear was at all times. i did have cancer once and got through it but i was always incredibly worried that i'd get it again and not be able to recover and cost everyone a lot of money lol
> 
> next chapter will be link pov and we'll go back a bit to see why he holed himself up in his room
> 
> i'm trying to keep a good balance between link's depression and his desire to help revali so hopefully i'm getting there? let me know if you think i'm ignoring him in favor of revali tho :o


	9. Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: depression, self-hatred, medication mention

Link should be excited. He really should be excited, because the guy he likes is coming over to his apartment, and he’s going to touch him (for therapy, but whatever), and they’re going to talk about their art and who knows what could happen—

But Link does, is the problem. Know what will happen. Revali is going to take one look at his art and burst out laughing, and then he’s going to go away and stay away. It doesn’t matter how much Link knows or tells himself that Revali isn’t that type of person; he just knows that this is all going to fall down somehow, because at some point Revali is going to realize that Link is a fraud running on Prozac and a crush, and then he’s going to hate Link as much as Link hates himself.

He hears the door opening and Revali’s nervous voice, but he can’t bring himself to go out and face everything, even when it’s five minutes after the time that he had suggested himself.

He hears the knock on his door, and while he’s tempted to not answer, he knows Zelda will worry and come crashing in anyway if he does that, so he knocks back. Zelda opens the door and enters quietly.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

Link laughs harshly. “I suck, is what’s wrong.”

Zelda sighs, but sits next to Link on his bed and begins rubbing his back comfortingly. “Oh, Link, no, that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” he responds. “I’m an awful person and an awful artist.” He jabs a finger at the mostly-finished art piece laying haphazardly on the floor where he had thrown it in a fit of despair. 

Zelda scoffs, looking at the art, then at him. “Please. You’re amazing.”

“You have to say that. You’re my best friend.” 

Zelda’s mouth sets in that hard line that he hates. He mentally adds it to his long list of why he’s a bad friend. She should never have to look like that. “Fine, you don’t have to believe me, but can you at least respect my opinion?"

Rubbing his temples, Link exhales sharply, then looks away. “Okay, fine. Sorry. But I also respect Revali’s opinion, and he’s going to hate it, and he’s going to hate me. He probably already hates me.”

“Link, come on, he wouldn’t be here if that were the case.”

“You’re telling me the guy who spends all his time thinking about whether or not he’s being rude wouldn’t be too afraid to turn down an invitation?”

Zelda fixes him with an unimpressed stare and points out the door.

“Okay! Fine. But if he laughs I’m blaming you.”

(That’s a lie, and they both know it. He’ll blame himself.)

Zelda whispers pleasantly as they walk out, “If he laughs, I’m kicking him.”

He rolls his eyes and sits down next to Revali, feeling very tired. The smile he pastes on after that is visibly insincere, but he’s pretty sure Revali is too polite to call him on it.

He’s wrong. Revali frowns like he’s seen something horrible, then rests his hand on Link’s shoulder. Link jumps a bit at the sudden and unexpected contact, fighting the urge to put his hand over Revali’s and keep him there forever.

“Practice,” Revali says in a voice high-pitched and breathless, and while Link knew that was the case, he still wishes it were something more, that Revali has to fight as hard to keep from touching Link as Link does Revali. 

He’s pushing away that thought when Revali says quickly, “Also you looked sad. I don’t…you shouldn’t be sad.” 

“Easier said than done,” Link thinks bitterly, realizing only when Revali stares at him that he’s said it out loud. Crap.

The exchange thereafter is clinical, just a friend being there for a friend who’s having a hard time, but when Revali smiles, small and pleased and cute as anything, Link forgets his exhaustion for a moment and smiles in response. He suspects Revali doesn’t know how adorable he is when he smiles, that he doesn’t know how it transforms a usually stern face into something soft and precious.

Link knows, though. He knows a lot. He knows that there are at least two other people in their small painting class alone that watch Revali for hints of that delighted smile when he gets a line right on the first try, or when he’s trying out a new kind of paint. He knows that there must be more in other classes who are put off talking to Revali by his resting scowl, but who want to be where he is right now, getting to know someone who is genuinely kind and sweet. Link knows he’s not special.

But Revali is, so he will let Revali touch him and not touch back, and he will let him leave when the inevitable happens, and he will smile through it all.

“You wanted to talk about the project, right?” Revali asks all of a sudden, and Link feels the smile he had just promised to keep drop. Right. That. 

“yeah,” Link texts unwillingly. “mine’s in my room”

Revali hefts his portfolio in response, apparently indicating the location of his own painting, and Link huffs. “yeah i had sort of guessed lol. i’ll go get mine”

He walks back into his room, takes a moment to resign himself to Revali’s laughter, and walks back out. 

Revali looks surprised, but almost gleeful as he takes in the proffered painting. It’s mostly abstract, depicting a variety of distorted figures. One has odd numbers surrounding it like a cloud, while one has a transparent head full of men with large, bald heads arguing around a conference table. Another is wearing a mask with demon horns, and yet another has an impossible amount of hands reaching towards the figure in the center, which is a small but precise replica of Revali, curled up in the center and screaming.

Link waits for the negative verdict, but when Revali finally says something, he says in a voice full of wonderment, “This is fantastic.”

“Huh?” Link says, accidentally out loud again.

“This is exactly what it all feels like. You have the numbers, and the touching, and the bad, and everyone yelling, and it’s chaotic and hard to take in and that’s perfect.” Revali lightly rests his finger above the one with all the big-headed men arguing, not touching but appreciating nonetheless. “I love this one. The expression of pain on the glass face while still keeping the integrity of the mess inside is flawless. Also, your textures are superb. I wish I could layer up paint like that, or that I could replicate your wild brush strokes. I love it.”

Link barely has time to absorb that he’s been praised rather than chased out of his own apartment when Revali is pulling his own painting out of his portfolio.

The first thing he sees is his face. It’s crafted with painstaking detail, and the expression radiates emptiness. His body is on the ground of some kind of forest, and the roots are growing over and into the hollow cavity of his chest. It’s almost grotesque in its accuracy, but it’s also incredibly skilled in its execution.

Link is about to allow himself to be swallowed up in self-pity and hatred—is this how Revali sees him? Is this what he truly is? He’s not as good as Revali from a technical standpoint, either, not at all—when he notices something odd.

Out of all of this, out of every dark color and hopeless detail, is a single flower growing out of his chest. 

“What’s that?” he asks, and this time he fully intends to use his voice.

Revali blinks at him, then points at the flower in question.

“Yeah.”

“It’s a snowdrop, or galanthus. It means hope.” 

Link can’t bring himself to scoff at Revali, but it’s a little trite, isn’t it? And more than a little inaccurate. He doesn’t have any hope. 

“That’s not why I chose it, though,” Revali continues, and Link looks back at him. “You know Hans Christian Anderson? He wrote this short story called The Snowdrop. There’s this flower—a snowdrop, obviously—and it goes through a lot of hard things. It blooms too early, in the winter, and while it’s proud that it’s the first and only flower, the Wind and the Weather try to destroy it. It survives, but then it’s picked and pressed, and then thrown to the ground, then swept up.” 

Link stares unabashedly, unsure what this has to do with anything.

“There’s this line in it.” Revali takes out his phone, fidgets a bit with it, then presents it for Link to read.

“But the Flower had more strength than she herself knew of. She was strong in joy and in faith in the summer, which would be sure to come, which had been announced by her deep longing and confirmed by the warm sunlight; and so she remained standing in confidence…” 

Link isn’t sure whether he wants to cry or to kiss Revali. Maybe both. “How does it end?” he finally whispers.

“She’s happy,” Revali says simply.

Link presses his hands to his lips, then says, muffled, “Thank you.” 

Revali tilts his head, clearly confused. “It’s not really something to thank me for. I just thought it was fitting, and I thought it could be like…a wish. I may not understand everything, but I know things are hard for you, and I want…I want you to be able to stand strong and be happy, is all. Being happy is the very least of what you deserve.”

Revali says it like it’s a fact, a given, something as easy as gravity or the sun rising each day. Somehow, in Revali’s simple statement, Link can almost even see a future in which he might believe that, and somehow, in that moment, he can only think of one way to express how much this means to him.

“You’re very good at painting,” he chokes out, hating himself even more for how much of a coward he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this ended up being so long! i couldn't find a good place to cut it haha
> 
> the painting of revali is very loosely based off of a painting i did about ocd myself in high school, so if it sounds weird that is why


	10. Twenty point five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for internalized ableism, mention of ocd obsessions

Their next painting class, the project is due. Revali has a momentary flash of despair as it occurs to him that Link may not want to have anything to do with him now that it’s done, but that idea vanishes as soon as Link walks into the classroom, waves shyly, and makes his way over to Revali’s seat.

“hey! thanks again for coming over last night,” Link writes in his sketchbook after fishing it out and opening it to a new page.

“No, thanks for inviting me,” Revali responds, checking at the front of the classroom to make sure that the teacher isn’t about to start talking. “Sorry I sort of spaced out there at the end. I was just…thinking about the touching thing, you know.”

That isn’t _technically_ a lie, because he doesn’t lie. He was thinking about the touch, just also about how he wouldn’t much mind trying it again, and how cute Link looked blushing as he complimented Revali’s painting. Revali rests a pencil against his lips, thinking. He was clearly embarrassed about paying the compliment—understandable—but didn’t he look a bit frustrated as well? Maybe because Revali wasn’t responding, though. Maybe because Revali wasn’t responding because he was thinking about how to broach the topic of kissing to his therapist. Is there even a non-awkward way to do that?

He feels a light prodding against his forehead, and he looks to the side to see that Link has poked him with a charcoal stick, face carefully inscrutable. “you’re spacing out again lol” Link writes.

(Link, for the record, doesn’t mind watching Revali as he gets lost in thought, face running through a variety of emotions as he works things out in his head. It’s kind of charming, really. He does, however, mind the way that Revali taps his pencil repeatedly against his lips, because it draws a lot of attention to an area that Link would rather not be thinking about right now.)

Revali wrinkles his nose. “You could have alerted me in a way that didn’t leave me with a black mark on my forehead,” he says lightly, starting to wipe at it.

“but so much less fun,” Link writes, then snaps his attention to the front of the classroom, where the teacher is standing up from her desk to start the class.

“All right, we’re doing critiques today of your partner portrait project. I have pushpins if you need them. Find a spot on the wall and put your painting up.”

The other people in the class rush to get the coveted whiteboard spots (the whiteboard has a little ledge, plus magnets work on it, so it’s good for both canvas and paper). Revali never wants to be rude to other people, so he quietly waits until most people are done and then rests his against the wall; his are always too big to hang without proper hardware. Link trots over to the teacher’s desk to get some pushpins, puts his next to Revali’s, and sits back down.

They always go in order of who ever volunteers first. Revali usually goes for third—he doesn’t want to be show-offy or overzealous, but he also wants to get it out of the way. Link never volunteers at all, so he usually goes last.

As the critique begins, however, it becomes pretty clear pretty quickly that the other people doing this assignment had chosen far less serious problems than Link and Revali. People have done paintings about grades, about money, about—in one memorable case—there not being enough cats available for petting in their college town. Revali can’t bring himself to raise his hand, mostly because he’s too busy trying to make himself as small as possible. Everyone’s going to _know,_ they’re going to know how much of a _freak_ he is—

He feels a small puff of air next to him as Link determinedly raises his hand.

“Link?” the teacher asks, slightly bemused. “Do you have a question?”

His hands flicker in a movement Revali still can’t recognize, and the teacher pauses, voice vaguely suspicious. “Oh. Sure, you can go next.”

Revali looks over at Link, feeling about ready to hyperventilate, and Link gives him a reassuring smile. 

Link stands up next to his piece, signs something that Revali has seen enough times to guess it’s probably his name, then smiles pleasantly. 

“Your partner was Revali, right?” the teacher asks, prompting.

He nods, still with that pleasant smile on. 

“And the problem?”

This is it. This is how Revali dies. He buries his head in his hands, but there’s only silence.

“I…beg your pardon?” the teacher finally asks incredulously.

Revali peeks up, and Link signs something again.

“You’re telling me this painting is about…how Revali is constantly losing his socks.”

Link nods once more, blinking innocently. Everyone stares at the painting, then at Link.

“So…for example, that creature with the hands—” The teacher frowns as Link responds. “It’s what you imagined stealing his socks. Because that’s…his biggest problem.”

Link’s pleasant smile grows, and he gives an emphatic double thumbs up.

Revali stares as well, then begins giggling helplessly, covering his mouth with his hands.

The teacher scowls. “I’m sorry, is this a joke?”

The teacher looks like she’s about to dock points. Revali can’t stop laughing. Link obviously realized that Revali was nervous and saved him, like he always does, but—socks. He doesn’t even _wear_ socks.

It’s at that moment that Revali makes two decisions.

First, if Link is willing to make himself a laughingstock for Revali, Revali can manage telling people he has OCD.

And second…Revali is going to tell Link that he likes him. Not today. Not for a while. But he’s going to tell him. He can’t keep being worried forever about everything, and he can’t keep all of this inside anymore.

“Sorry, it’s an inside joke,” Revali manages between hiccupping laughter. “He was just trying to make me feel better because I was nervous about telling everyone. I have OCD, and that’s what the painting is about.”

Link gazes at him, then gives another smile, much softer this time.

“The hallmarks for me are touching, odd numbers, thinking I’m a bad person, and intrusive thoughts about the above. And for the record, he did an excellent job capturing all of it, in a way that I don’t think any of you can understand unless you have OCD as well.” Revali shrugs. “I wouldn’t change anything about it. So that’s my critique.”

“Thanks,” the teacher says, clearly still aggravated, but calming. “Anything to add, anyone?” 

Someone hesitantly raises their hand—an Illustration major who’s notoriously hard on abstract work. Revali narrows his eyes at her, but she says, “I don’t know much about OCD other than what I’ve read about it online, but I think this is a good representation from what I know. You can see the chaos in all of it, and it’s clear how overwhelmed the center figure is by the bigger, distorted figures. There’s also some great texture.”

A few other people chime in after that, all with similar things to say. For Link, who usually gets panned by the people in the classroom, it’s kind of a new experience. They do note a few weak points—there’s some lack of balance, and sometimes the texture detracts from the figures—but overall, the feedback is positive. He ducks his head the entire time, faintly blushing at the compliments, and Revali watches him the entire time fondly. He doesn’t even bother trying to hide it, even when Link looks back at him uncertainly. He just gives a thumbs up and revels in the pink of Link’s cheeks and the lopsidedness of his grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did a version of link's painting but i don't like it so i won't link it here lol. it's on my tumblr under my drawings tag if you're super curious though (as is the original painting it was based off of, near the very beginning of the same tag)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! my tumblr is at [anuninterestingperson](http://anuninterestingperson.tumblr.com) if you ever want to drop by!


End file.
